The Boy With Wings
by Northborn
Summary: AU. This is an idea I had of putting the Supernatural characters in the setting of the Hunger Games world. Dean Winchester is a victor from District 10 who hates angels. Mostly because they rule his country, they're behind the Games, oh, and they killed his parents. *Warnings* There will be eventual Dean/Castiel, language,dark content, torture, implied rape, prostitution, & angst.
1. The Boy With Too Many Secrets

Dean Winchester always wondered why his father called him "blessed." As far as he could tell, he was cursed from the day his parents were murdered. He gazed out at the wide plains as far as his eyes could see. Beneath his boot, a dead monster lay with a silver knife in its heart. He knew he shouldn't have killed the creature, but he had. It had been instincts; it had been year's of his father's training. President Metatron didn't know about this knife. Dean had gotten Castiel to have it made for him. No one refused the angel, no one except Dean. But his fight wasn't with that waste of feathers, his fight was with much bigger birds. Or so Dean thought. Though he didn't know why Castiel hadn't reported him to the Peacekeepers or President Metatron. He supposed it was the angel's loyalty to Sam. Sweet Sam who always got the sympathy vote. Dean shook his head. It wasn't Sam's fault life was so damn tough. If it wasn't tough, then it wouldn't be life. He drew the blade out and wiped it clean before shoving it back in his belt. Now to bury the poor bastard who had the unfortunate opportunity to run into Dean Winchester.

Now, living in District 10 had its perks. Being in the district that specialized in livestock meant that Dean got to work outdoors most of the time. He was a natural with animals and an outcast with humans. He had started working on Bobby's Ranch when he was thirteen, shortly after his father and mother had was killed by angels leaving him as the sole provider to his little brother Sam. Sam was the only human that wanted to be around Dean. He tried to not let it bother him. But even his father and mother had friends. Dean often wondered why he didn't have any friends. He never told Sam though. The nine year-old didn't need to worry about his older brother. He had his own troubles. Sam didn't have any friends either.

When he was fourteen, a new boy, Castiel Novak, showed up in their district. The rumor was that he had escaped the Capitol. District 10 was naturally suspicious of anyone from the Capitol and so, Castiel was shunned, but also feared. Because rumor was that the new boy was really an angel. He had been cast out of the Capitol by his family. Everyone gave him a wide berth because they all knew what angels could do when they became angry. Their country was living proof. Sam had been the boy who was picked on before Castiel showed up, but when Castiel saved Sam from a beating one day, they struck up a conversation. Sam and Castiel become friends despite Dean forbidding his brother to be around Castiel. Naturally, Dean hated angels for what they have done to his family, but he couldn't bring himself to deny his brother the only friend Sam had ever had. Hell, Sam had an angel as a friend. Now, Dean still hated the kid, but Castiel kept his brother safe. Castiel made his brother popular at school. No one was going to get on Sam's bad side, not when he had an angel as a bodyguard and best friend.

Dean was fifteen when he was reaped for the Hunger Games that year. It wasn't much of a surprise considering how many times his name was in there. He couldn't feed two growing boys on his income alone. But it also wasn't much of a surprise to his district when he won the Games in a record time. His family is well-known for the work they have done in keeping District 10 safe from the less than savory creatures that lived and even controlled some other districts. It was the reason they had never eradicated the hunters when they had come to live in District 10. They were hated, yes, but they were needed. They didn't want to become a vampire nest like District 5. President Metatron kept Dean in the Capitol for a few years, studying him, experimenting with him. But when Dean turned 17, he was allowed to return home.

* * *

"Dean!" Sam wrapped his arms around his brother as soon as he stepped foot back on District 10 soil. Dean sighed contentedly, wrapping one arm around his little brother. He was happy until he looked up and saw Castiel hanging back.

"It's good to be home." He pulled away from Sam. "Oh, wow, Sammy, really? You brought him?"  
"Welcome back, Dean." Dean rolled his eyes slightly before making eye contact with the awkward angel.  
"Castiel." He nodded with a tight smile. He had his fill of angels in the Capitol.  
"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel looked at the ground. "I heard about what happened."  
"Shut your cake-hole."  
"Dean." Sam admonished. For a thirteen year old, he sure was acting like an adult. "Castiel is my friend."  
"Yay." Dean threw his bag over his shoulder. "Let's roll. You still have my baby?"  
"Dean, I had to sell it." Sam looked nervous.  
"What?"  
"You couldn't even drive it. We were starving."  
"I can now! I've learned." Dean shifted his feet. "That was all I had left… And you sold it so some fucking angel could eat?! They don't need to eat like we do!" Castiel flinched at the outburst.  
"I should go." He vanished. Dean growled softly in the direction of where Castiel had just been.  
"Great, Dean." Sam folded his arms.  
"He's an angel, Sammy. Angels are no good, just remember that. They're cruel assholes for the heck of it."  
"You don't know everything."  
"Well, that's good. You finally sound like the whiny brat you're supposed to be." Dean ruffled Sam's hair just like he used to. "Come on. We're moving into the Victor's Village. You're gonna be taken care of from now on out." Sam followed his older brother back to the small mobile home that was no longer their home. He was glad Dean had returned, but he couldn't understand why Dean hated Castiel so much. Castiel wasn't like other angels. Castiel was kind.

Living in the Victor's Village wasn't too bad, but Dean returned to the ranch soon after his return. He didn't need the money, but he needed the activity. Ever since he had won, he couldn't stay still. He had inherited a restlessness that wouldn't leave ever. Hunting would have helped, but since he had become a victor, he wasn't allowed to hunt anymore. Too many cameras followed the boy with too many secrets for him to be himself.

Dean was going crazy. His brother and Castiel usually played together after school most days, but the weekends, it was just the Winchester brothers. That had been Dean's compromise with Sammy: "No angels on the weekends." Dean was grateful that the angel understood that Dean hated angels, but what he hated more was that the angel knew why. Apparently, the angels talked about him, a lot. He shivered despite the hot sun. He didn't have time to remember the Games or his time in the Capitol. Sam was provided for and that was all that mattered. Plus with his winnings, Dean was able to buy the Impala back. It was only possession he had been able to keep of his father's. President Metatron had been thorough in his decision to retire Dean from demon hunting. Peacekeepers had confiscated all of the weapons John Winchester had stockpiled over the years. Apparently, the demons had taken over Districts 9 and 3; Dean's hunting could wreak havoc on the uneasy peace Metatron had eked out with the Demon King, Crowley. All Dean had was his tattoo and his scars to remind him of his previous life. He was grateful to still have his brother though. He knew other victors had not been so lucky. It had only taken one threat on Sam's life for him to give in. There was nothing else he could have done, but it was worth it. Sam was safe.

Once Dean turned legal, however; he took to drink like he had been made for the sole purpose of consuming alcohol. Sam stayed at Castiel's often. Dean was faintly aware that it was his actions that were driving his brother away, but instead of quitting the liquor, he drank more. Whenever Sam tried to reason with him, he blew up. When Sam was fifteen, he left the Victor's Village to live with his girlfriend, Jess's, family. They were sympathetic towards Dean, but they knew they couldn't rescue him. The only person that ever visited was Castiel. He never stayed long, but he stayed long enough to make sure Dean was still breathing. Dean was angry. He was angry at Sam for being loved. He was angry his little brother got a new family. He was angry at the angels. He was angry at the Hunger Games. He was angry at Castiel for keeping him alive. He was angry most at himself however. He wished he hadn't won the Games. He wished he had died.


	2. The Boy With Anger Issues

Dean glanced at the clock hanging above his fireplace. It seemed to be near the time of evening when Castiel would appear. Dean still hated the angel, but he had come to become dependent on Castiel's comings and goings. He figured the angel only came for Sam's sake, but that no longer seemed to make any sense. Dean had seen Sam at the ranch the other day. He had tried to talk to his younger brother, but somehow he just ended up yelling at him. This time though, Sam had yelled back. Dean slumped back into the couch, staring at the ceiling when he heard the familiar flutter of wings signaling his daily visitor was back.

"You're not drunk." Castiel observed out loud. Normally the angel's presence had always grated on Dean's nerves, but lately, it seemed almost soothing. He was losing it.

"Sorry." Dean took a sip of his bottle of beer. He hadn't wanted to get drunk tonight. He had needed to think. He had driven Sam away, maybe for good. He didn't want to drink if it meant he lost Sam in the process.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to." The angel was always so matter-of-fact. It was one of the few things Dean could appreciate about Castiel. It was that and his punctuality. "Sam told me about your fight." He clarified, looking down at Dean with that constant creased brow.

"Why are you here?" Dean looked down at his beer. He hadn't meant to ever ask that question out loud.

"I don't know." Castiel shifted awkwardly. "I just can't leave you alone to waste away to nothing."

"You're so awkward." Dean scoffed slightly, more observantly than mockingly. "Your family didn't let you get out much, huh?"

"My brothers were less inclined to let me leave, yes." Castiel glanced down at his t-shirt.

"So how'd you end up here?"

"I was sent on a mission."

"Oh yea?" Dean put his beer down, standing up so he could look down on the angel instead of the other way around. "You mean you aren't some poor angel that was kicked out, but are actually here doing President Metatron's will?" His fingers curled up into fists.

"You should know best that we don't have much of a choice when it comes to doing his will, but no, I am not here to do his will." Dean knew that Castiel knew that he was going to hit him. He had forgotten how hard it was to strike an angel; their grace making them almost invincible to human attacks. "I wanted to tell you the truth sooner than this." Castiel added almost apologetically. Dean felt all his hate flow toward the angel in front of him. If it weren't for the ache in his hand, he could have never known he had just given Castiel's face his best right hook.

"So why are you here?" Dean hissed, grabbing Castiel's collar with both hands.

"I'm here to watch over you." Dean shoved Castiel back roughly.

"Shut your mouth!" He snarled. His mother had always told him that angels were watching over him before angels brutally murdered her. "President Metatron would never order such a stupid thing! He ruined my life!"

"President Metatron has nothing to do with my being here. God ordered me to. That's why I am no longer welcome with my brothers. Most of them serve the President as if he was God, but he's not."

"Why would God care?" Dean punched Castiel in the face again. Castiel gave him a sympathetic look that only fueled Dean's anger more. "He's never cared before! Why didn't he stop my family from being murdered? Why did he allow the Games to happen? Why did he let a douche bag take the throne?"

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel accepted the next punch without flinching. "You can't hurt me. Don't hurt yourself trying to."

"I want to." Dean growled, delivering a few more blows to Castiel's torso. "I don't need you." Castiel made a strange noise as he allowed Dean to knock the air out of him. He restrained his grace from instantly healing the bruising. Dean felt the change. He could feel Castiel making his body almost human so Dean could hurt him. The angel was allowing Dean to kick the shit out of him and Dean wasn't about to refuse.

"Free will is a beautiful thing, isn't it?" Castiel laughed shakily as Dean knocked him back into the wall. It hurt, but his heart hurt more for Dean. If this would help Dean heal, he would suffer willingly. The room spun. Castiel didn't notice the runes Dean had carved around him until it was too late. He no longer had a choice but to accept the abuse from Dean's hands. He lay on his back, Dean straddling his stomach, bloodying his face beyond recognition.

"You're an idiot." Dean whispered in Castiel's ear. "For an angel, you're really stupid. I am a fucking Winchester. I don't need your pity. I just need you and all your kind dead." He drew the angel blade from Castiel's pocket. "You should have a better hiding place for this like in your chest." He leaned back, tracing lines on Castiel's face. "Want me to put it there for you?"

"Please, Dean." Dean felt the angel squirm underneath him. He saw nothing but fear in those large blue eyes staring up at him. "Please don't do this. I haven't finished my mission yet."

"Like I care." Dean put more pressure behind the knife causing Castiel to whimper. They both knew that just a scratch would cause Castiel to die in a painful flash of light. Suddenly, Dean stood up causing Castiel to yelp in fear and surprise. "God doesn't care about me." He said firmly to the angel lying on the floor. "If he did, he wouldn't send such a pathetic angel to keep me safe." Castiel flinched as Dean came closer to him. "Get out of here." Dean ordered, breaking the rune that held the angel prisoner. "Don't let me see your face ever again." Castiel gave him a searching look that seemed to sear into Dean's soul. Castiel wanted to know why Dean hadn't killed him, but Dean didn't have the answer to that question. He couldn't kill Castiel. He couldn't kill Sam's friend. He couldn't kill the closest thing he had to a friend. Castiel sighed softly, as he healed himself. Hesistantly, he reached out and touched Dean's cheek softly for a second. Dean froze as he realized that Castiel was healing him. He moved to strike Castiel with the angel blade, but Castiel vanished. "Fuck you, Castiel." Dean shouted. Some of the anger had left him with the angel's touch. The pain in his hands had fled when Castiel had touched him as well. He felt empty without his anger, but he also felt hope. He hid the angel blade before stomping out of his house. He would visit Sam. He would make things right. Well, he would try to before Castiel showed up at Jess's house and let Sam know that his big brother was a dick.

* * *

Sam knocked on his door before he had the chance to leave. Jess was dead. She and her family had been torched inside their house. Sam had barely escaped with his life, dragging himself to Dean's door. Sam wanted to learn the family business. And Dean was more than happy to comply.

"Angels are dicks." Sam muttered to Dean as Dean tended his wounds.

"I know." Dean replied. He had a feeling that Castiel had saved Sam for him. And the 19 year old hated him for it.


	3. The Boy With Angel Issues

That next year Dean dared to hope that President Metatron had forgotten all about him. He knew it was a foolish hope, but he had been left alone for so long by the Capitol that he had come to cherish his time with Sam. The brothers had grown closer despite the secrets they both hid from each other. Dean taught Sam everything their father had taught him, and soon, Sam was the second best hunter in the Districts. Dean was so proud of his brother. They went on hunts often throughout the District, sometimes even sneaking across the border into adjoining districts; once they had reached the wilds up north. People called them for help as the monster problems and the demon problems were worsening as Presisdent Metatron struggled to keep control of the country.

Rumors whispered of an angel rebellion in the Capitol, of a blue-eyed angel with black wings who had dared to challenge Metatron. In an unexpected turn events, many in Metatron's army left to follow Castiel. Dean didn't know the angel had it in him. He closed his eyes as he leaned against the Impala waiting for Sam to join him. He didn't like the twisting feeling he felt in his stomach when he heard about Castiel fighting in the Capitol. He didn't like the pang in his chest whenever he saw his face on the news. He missed that angel. And he hated himself for it.

"You okay?" Sam came out of the diner, a blast of cold air shooting behind him from the old air conditioning system. It was hot out in the summer sun. Dean sighed briefly, opening his eyes.

"Yea, I'm fine." Sam didn't even pretend to believe him anymore. He just raised his eyebrows and gave that tight worried smile that reminded Dean so much of their mother. Dean hadn't been fine since the Games, hell; Dean hadn't been fine since their parent's deaths. Sam knew Dean blamed the angels, but he had seen something that night that had made him doubt the theory everyone else bought.

"Let's go home." Sam said, settling in to the passenger seat. He reached for the dial of the radio, but Dean batted his hand away as he slid into the driver's seat.

"I pick the tunes, Sammy." Dean turned up some rock 'n roll song that was probably prohibited in the districts, but Dean had stopped caring after his name had been called in exchange for all the tesserae. As they drove towards their district, Dean glanced over at Sam. He wanted to know if Sam ever heard from the angel. Hearing about Castiel might stop his stupid worries.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked, still flipping through the magazine they had picked up on the road. "You've been looking at me every other minute for the past five miles."

"You ever hear from him?" Dean asked quickly, not really wanting to ask, but desperately needing the answer.

"Who?" Sam's brow wrinkled.

"Castiel." Dean nearly spat the angel's name out like it was poison.

"Castiel?!" Sam looked up at Dean in surprise. "No, Dean, I haven't heard from him since he dragged me out of Jess's burning house." Sam's tone grew quieter at the mention of his dead girlfriend.

"I'm sorry, man." And Dean was, but he felt angry again. How could Castiel abandon Sam when he needed a friend most? He tried to ignore the fact that he had practically ordered the angel away. "Do you miss him?" He nearly swore as that question slipped out unbidden.

"Of course, Dean. He was my best friend. But he said that I had you now, and that we'd be okay."

I don't want him to be in contact with you." Dean replied sternly. "President Metatron wants him for treason, so I'm making sure he's been staying away."

"You're the reason he left." Sam said quietly. Dean noticed that it wasn't a question. "There wouldn't be an uprising if you hadn't sent him away."

"He had to go." Dean cleared his throat, but the lump remained. "He lied."

"Dude, what is going on?" Sam was openly staring at his brother who kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead of them. "It's like you're a girl."

"I am not!" Dean glared at his brother who openly started laughing. Dean hadn't seen Sam laugh in so long; he couldn't help but chuckle too.

"Dean!" Sam yelled suddenly. Dean looked back at the road and swerved desperately trying to avoid the roadblock with armed Peacekeepers waiting behind it.

"Shit, shit, shit." Dean cursed as the Impala slammed sideways into the cement wall. "You okay, Sam?" He looked over at his little brother. Sam was unconscious; at least, Dean hoped he was only unconscious. His heart hurt at the thought of losing Sam too. There was blood on his brother's forehead as he lay slumped down against the passenger door.

"Dean Winchester? You're under arrest." A Peacekeeper with a scowl pulled him roughly out of the Impala.

"No! My brother!" Dean punched the Peacekeeper and ran back to the car. "Sam! You gotta wake up! Sam!" He yelled, reaching in and shaking his brother. Sam didn't respond; he didn't even stir. "Sam!" Dean shouted again as more Peacekeepers poured around the roadblock and laid hands on him. His wrists were forced into handcuffs behind his back and a hood was thrown over his head. "Save my brother!" He begged; he was never too proud to not do everything he could to save his brother. The Peacekeepers were silent as they shoved him into the back of a waiting vehicle. "Cas…" He whispered, praying desperately for the angel to save Sam. A harsh blow to his head rendered Dean unconscious for the rest of the trip.

Groggily, Dean felt himself being dragged over dusty, parched earth. The bastards had removed his shoes, he realized as the ground burned his bare feet. Whoever was behind this did not want him running.

"Where is Castiel?!" A gruff voice demanded. Dean jerked his head toward the sound. His head lolled back as he was roughly struck. The bag was taken off his head causing him to blink rapidly in the harsh sunlight. President Metatron leaned against fence rail looking very out of place with his stiff suit and tie. Dean looked around in horror as he noticed the dead bodies littered around the ranch.

"Bobby was a good man." President Metatron said with all seriousness as he looked down at the dead rancher at his feet. "But then there are those that think Castiel is good as well."

"What the fuck do you want?" Dean struggled to rise, but was kicked back down to the ground. Metatron glanced back at Dean lying in the cloud of dust. "Where is Sam?"

"Sam is in my care. And that is where he will stay until you give us Castiel's location."

"I don't know." Another blow from Metatron's hench-angels caused Dean to gasp for breath.

"This would be so much easier if you didn't fight. But I don't mind going down the hard road with you, Dean." President Metatron smiled down at Dean.

"I haven't seen him in over a year, I swear." Dean panted.

"Then why was this in your house?" Metatron held up Castiel's angel blade. Dean had forgotten that he even still had it from that night.

"I stole it." Dean's right eyebrow quirked up as he tried to hide his smile at the memory. "I trapped him and I stole it from him."

"You trapped Castiel?" Dean had Metatron's full attention. "I often forget you are a talented hunter even though you flagrantly display your abilities at every offered chance, especially those talents that I have explicitly forbidden you from using. Perhaps I'll be a merciful leader and give you a chance to use your gifts for good."

"And Sam?"

"Sam will be taken care of if you hunt down Castiel and bring him to me."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then Sammy dies." Metatron shrugged. "My men will return in two months. Hopefully, you'll have Castiel for me by then." Metatron and his angels flickered from Dean's view as they returned to the capitol.

"Sam." Dean groaned as he unsteadily got up. Pain flashed through his body as he straightened up. His hand went to his ribs as he collapsed back to the ground. Dean lay there as the sun slowly set. The townsfolk came out and quietly retrieved their dead. He hated the Capitol. He hated how none of them could cry even if they wanted to. He hated how desensitized the districts were to loved ones being kidnapped or killed. Bobby had been the only man who was kind to Dean in District 10. Dean felt near to death as he lay there alone in the abandoned ranch. A child had left a water bottle near his head, but other than that, even his own people had left him to die.

"Hey, Dean." He jumped, jostling his broken ribs as Castiel appeared next to him. "Sam's safe, I thought you might want to know." The angel turned to go.

"Wait..." Dean weakly reached toward the retreating form. Castiel hesitated for a second, waiting for Dean to continue, but Dean didn't know what to say. All the words that floated through his mind felt so wrong to say to an angel. "He wants me to trap you." He coughed out, nearly howling at the pain. Castiel sat next to him.

"May I heal you, Dean?" Dean glanced up into those deep, caring eyes. He nodded, closing his eyes. He didn't want Castiel to know he missed him. He didn't want Castiel to know he had come to need the angel.

Fingers pressed to his forehead and all the pain was instantly gone. He felt the warm glow fill his body as Castiel's grace healed him completely.

"Thanks." He whispered hoarsely. "I owe you one." He got up stiffly.

"You owe me nothing, Dean Winchester." The angel replied in his usual matter-of-fact manner. "You spared my life once. I believe we are what they call 'even'."

"Dammit, Cas." Dean uncharacteristically pulled Castiel into a hug. "You saved Sam. I'm forever in your debt for that." Castiel said nothing about the fact that Dean was embracing him or that Dean was also nicknaming him. He just kind of hummed in some kind of distracted agreement as he hesitantly put his arm around Dean.

"I am not good at hugs." The angel admitted, his wings circling around Dean. Dean froze as he felt feathers brush against his neck. He pulled back to catch a glimpse of Castiel's beautiful, black wings.

"Yea, I'd say." Dean put a few feet of distance between them. "You're supposed to just use your arms, not your wings." Castiel's wings were so large. Despite his hate for angels, Dean was in awe. He had never seen an angel's wings before. He had only seen them in illustrations in Sam's textbooks. He reached out and touched one of the feathers gently. Castiel shivered and pulled his wings back; they vanished from view. "Did I just break some rule about touching wings?" He asked, noticing how uncomfortable Castiel was acting.

"Yes." Castiel's cheeks had turned slightly pink. "No one is supposed to touch an angel's wings, no one except their mate."

"Aw shit, sorry, Cas." Dean ran his hand through his hair. That was probably why no one ever saw angel wings in public then. Why the hell had Castiel even let him see them? He went to ask, but Castiel had turned away from him, facing the orange sunset.

"I have to go. I'll keep Sam safe, Dean." Castiel turned back one last time. "And we are even." He murmured softly.

"Hey, Cas? I still hate angels." Dean called after him.

"I know, Dean." The angel's voice sounded slightly sad. "And I understand that your statement still includes me."

"Wa-" But Castiel was gone before Dean could finish his statement. Dean had just wanted Castiel to know that he wasn't like the other angels. Castiel was Dean's friend.


	4. The Boy Who Loved Whiskey

It had a few weeks since President Metatron's visit when Dean heard the sound of feathers fluttering in the kitchen. Quickly, he covered up the pad he had been sketching in with some loose papers. He looked at Castiel's angel blade that lay across the table from him just in case it was Metatron's goons who kept coming back. He breathed a short sigh of relief as he recognized the tan trench coat. "Dean, I'm so sorry." Castiel's shoulders sagged as he looked at the ground in shame. "I promised I would keep him safe, but I was betrayed. One of my angels played the traitor and brought Sam to Metatron in the Capitol."

"What?" Dean's voice went deeper than Castiel was used to hearing as the elder Winchester struggled with his emotions. "He's gone?" That was it. Dean's bargaining chip was gone. His brother was now at the President's mercy, and there wasn't much Dean could do about it.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel's gravelly voice interrupted Dean's despair. "I do have a solution that you should find pleasing."

"What the hell is that?" Dean turned away from the angel who was struggling for words. He got up in a rush causing the papers and the sketchpad to fall off the table to the floor.

"What are those?" Castiel looked at the paper on the floor and back up at Dean in awe.

"It's nothing." Dean mumbled as Castiel picked up the pad Dean had been drawing on.

"These are my wings." Castiel's blue eyes were full of wonder. He glanced up at Dean before returning his steady gaze to the beautiful rendition of his wings.

"And your plan to save Sam?" Dean loudly reminded the angel who jumped.

"Sorry." Castiel was still staring at the paper in his hands. "No one has ever done anything like this-" He trailed off, running his fingers over the detailed feathers.

"Just keep it, Cas. Now tell me how I can save my brother." Castiel placed the sketchpad down on the table gingerly.

"Turn me in."

"What?!" Green eyes sought blue. "I can't."

"Yes, you can." Castiel retorted. "You are already considering it, and you should. Sam's your brother, and I am merely an angel."

"You're a friend." Dean corrected the angel. Castiel's eyes grew wide.

"I don't understand. You hate angels."

"I do."

"But I am an angel." Dean smiled slightly.

"Don't think so hard." He tapped Castiel on the forehead, the angel flinching slightly. "I don't want to give in to Metatron."

"It's the only way to save Sam, Dean." Castiel gave Dean one of those I-care-about-him-too looks. "I promised you I would keep him safe, and I will keep my promise." Dean nodded in weary surrender. Castiel was right. It was either Sam or Cas. And everyone knew who Dean would pick when he was forced to choose. It was him and Sam against the world. He didn't want to think about the fact looming above him that he wanted to keep both. But blood came before friends and feathers. "Are we in agreement that you will deliver me to Metatron as he has requested?"

"Okay."

"It'll be okay, Dean."

"Yea, I know." Dean pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "Want any?" He chuckled at Castiel's almost offended face. "I'll pour you a glass, angel." The whiskey slid out of the bottle easily and down their throats even more easily.

"Is this the customary way that Winchesters greet death and enemies?" Castiel asked as he downed another glass.

"Yea." Dean grinned, the alcohol wearing away at his usual reserve. "I gotta call that douchebag to bring Sam and make the switch." A look of sadness crossed Dean's features, gone as quickly as it appeared. "You sit here and drink, buddy." He patted Castiel on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Cas." He said quietly as he flipped his phone open. Castiel closed his eyes at the rush of emotions he could sense from Dean's soul. He had always been aware of the guilt that Dean carried around, but it had gotten stronger. For some reason, it almost hurt Castiel to know Dean felt guilty about turning him in. Castiel knew he was probably going to his death, but he knew there was no other way to save Sam. And he was going to make sure Dean got Sam back. "He's coming." Dean sank into a chair, placing the bottle of whiskey to his lips in a long swig. Castiel watched him with remorseful eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dean." He bowed his head, studying his shoes. "I have put you in an awful situation." Dean sputtered in shock, spilling whiskey as Castiel shoved him across the room. Instinctually, he dove for the angel blade as it clattered to the floor. He pinned Castiel against the wall, pressing the blade to his friend's throat. His questioning eyes searched Castiel's unreadable, steady gaze.

"Impressive, Dean." President Metatron slow clapped from where he had appeared. His angels filtered into the room like sunshine sliding through cracks in the shutters on the windows. "I knew you would feel inspired once Sam was in my custody. Hi, Castiel." Metatron nodded to the blue-eyed angel. "My angels will take it from here." Metatron waved his hand, throwing Dean into the other room. His body slammed through the doorway, coming to a rest on the floor in the adjoining room.

"Where's Sam?" Castiel demanded, as his captors roughly bound him.

"He'll be here when Dean comes to." Metatron snapped his fingers. Another angel appeared with Sam in his grasp.

"Gabriel!" Castiel struggled for a brief moment until he saw his brother quickly shake his head. His heart sank and he didn't fight his captors anymore.

"Here is Sam Winchester, sir." Gabriel politely bowed. Sam wildly glanced around the room, his eyes full of fear. He pulled free of Gabriel's grasp, falling to his knees on the hardwood floor.

"Let's go." Metatron clapped his hand. Every angel vanished leaving Sam and Dean alone in Dean's house in the Victor's Village.

"Dean." Sam scrambled to his brother's side. Sam retrieved Dean's cell phone from the wreckage in the kitchen. He eyed the whiskey before taking a quickly gulp, wincing at the burning in his throat. He dialed the village's doctor who arrived in twenty minutes. Dean woke up sitting on the couch, ice pack on his head.

"Cas?" He croaked. Sam just shook his head, figuring that Dean had found a nice girl.

"What'd I miss?" Sam asked, shoving the bottle of liquor towards his brother. "Why did Metatron take me?"

"He wanted me to hunt Cas."

"Cas? Cas who? Cassie?" Sam wondered if Dean meant that girl he had a crush on before he dropped out of school.

"Castiel." Dean grabbed the bottle and furiously downed what was left. "He sacrificed himself so we could get you back."

"Why are you angry?" Sam knew Dean would do anything to keep him safe, even the rumors in the Capitol had confirmed what he had already known. "You hated Castiel. You only tolerated him because he was my friend."

"He deserved better." Dean mumbled, getting up. "I'm getting more whiskey."

"What happened, Dean?" Sam stood up, blocking Dean's way.

"He became my friend too, Sam!" Dean yelled. "Now get out of my way."

"Please don't start drinking again." Sam's bottom lip was quivering. "I don't have any more people I can run to if I lose you again." Dean made his way back to the couch without getting more whiskey. He had never really stopped drinking; he had only learned how to control it a little better than he had before. He would drink when Sam was asleep. He would be a better brother.


	5. The Boys Who Were Okay

They were okay.

That fact surprised Dean more than anything as he and Sam fell back into the simple rhythm of their life from before. The months that passed after Castiel was taken were peaceful by Winchester standards. They didn't leave the District, but they still hunted, helping out their fellow humans in District 10. They carried on the family business, hated but needed by their town. Dean got a part-time job at the local supermarket and hid the money in a field near Bobby's ranch. When Sam asked him about it, he just said that he wanted to be prepared for the worst. He wanted to be ready in case the Capitol stopped giving him the money he had earned.

Seeing how President Metatron handled Castiel's rebellion had shown Dean the cracks in the Capitol's armor. If the Capitol fell, their way of life would go as well. And it would be a good riddance as far as Dean could tell. The things that he had been forced to do by the Capitol still gave him nightmares. But how could he tell his sixteen year old younger brother about the horrors he had endured. How could he tell Sam that it was worth it because Sam was still okay, still untouched by the Capitol's cruelty.

So, instead, Dean tried to explain to Sam that winning the Games gives you a lot of money. He skipped the part where some victors were forced into prostitution by the Capitol after winning the Games. He forgot to mention about how past victor's families had been massacred to keep the champion in line. He didn't want Sam to get nightmares. He didn't want Sam to worry.

Dean Winchester had big shoulders.

It was Christmas. Dean was honestly surprised that the angels still allow them to celebrate considering it clashed with this new Metatron theology. He didn't buy the whole Metatron-is-god deal. He was old-fashioned in what few beliefs he had. Castiel had changed how he viewed the supernatural. He had stopped feeling so bitter towards God. Now he was sort of grateful in an unattached way to the guy who sent Castiel into his life. Not that he was letting God off the hook for what happened to his parents, but he was acknowledging that Cas had made his life better.

Had. That use of the past tense hurt some days. Sam never brought up Castiel to Dean, so Dean never brought up Castiel to Sam. But the angel was not forgotten by either brother.

"I got you something." Sam held out a box that was wrapped in newspaper. Dean grinned, kind of wishing he could finally show Sam that he had gone crazy over Christmas this year. Sammy didn't know about the closet full of colorfully wrapped presents. Oh, and the tree, the lights, the food, or the pie.

"Hold on to it for a bit." Dean nodded. "We'll open everything tonight. Right now we have some decorating to do. " He nodded at the pick-up truck backing up into their driveway.

"We're really doing this?" Sam's face lit up in a gigantic grin when he saw the large Christmas tree in the back of the truck. "The whole picket fence, normal family Christmas ?"Dean chuckled.

"Yea, Sammy. I figure we should have at least one normal Christmas. Let's make Christmas our bitch!" Dean rubbed his hands together, looking like the little boy he had been the last time they had properly celebrated the holiday. "I tried to get snow, but looks like we'll have to settle for watching some old movie _White Christmas_ for some snow instead."

"I'll start it!" Sam took off towards the house.

"Hold up! What about this tree?" Dean pointed at the large evergreen. "Am I supposed to just drag it in all by myself?" Sam nodded, that huge grin still plastered.

"All right." Dean beamed back, his green eyes lighting up. "Just don't start the movie until I'm inside, I haven't seen it yet. I just got in the mail two days ago." He stomped off towards the truck, extending his hand to the driver in a friendly greeting. The man reluctantly shook Dean's hand before shrugging past him to unload the tree. Sam hated how Dean was treated by the community; he hated how the constant rejection made his brother's shoulder sag a little lower. It was fucking Christmas! No one should be treated unkindly on what should be a joyous holiday, but there wasn't a whole lot of angels singing "peace and good will toward men" with Metatron in charge. Sam turned and went inside. He turned on the TV and popped the DVD in. He'd at least get past the previews while he started on his homework. Dean always said that Sam was smart enough to get into college. Sam hoped that he was. It was rare for humans to be accepted to colleges anymore, at least, poor humans from ranching districts. Most kids wanted to know how to saddle a horse and herd a bunch of cows more than science and math.

"Holy shi—Dean!" Sam yelled as the DVD began to play. The grain was fuzzy at best, but he knew it was his brother he was seeing. Dean looked so young.

"Ah, our new victor," Someone narrated, zooming in on Dean's contorted face. "Not feeling so hot, are you? Just remember that you agreed to this. This is consensual." The man snickered. Sam reached for the remote, but he was lost to the horror of it all. Whatever this was, it did not look consensual. The look of fear in his brother's eyes haunted Sam. He had never seen his brother as anything but strong.

"It wasn't consensual, Sam." Dean cleared his throat from where he stood, Christmas tree in hand. "I thought you should know." Sam whirled around to see his brother staring at the video that was playing. Dean shook his head and reached for the remote. He wasn't going to talk about this with Sam. No one needed to know about that.

"Sorry, boys." The images vanished and Gabriel's face filled the screen. "I didn't mean to scar Sam, but this was the only way Metatron would approve my little Christmas gift. All right, this is a horrible present. Sorry about the nightmares, Dean, but I have a favor to ask of you two. Castiel is still alive. I don't know what Metatron has planned, but I know it won't be pretty. At least not as pretty as Dean all hopped up on hormones, so high paying "fans" can get their kicks. Sorry." Gabriel grinned. "I'm honestly not that bad. Ah, yes, favor. If Castiel ever gets out of the Capitol, would you two take care of him, please? I'm not supposed to care about him, so I obviously can't do it-" Gabriel's phone went off and he answered it, holding up a finger to the camera's operator. "Mmhmm," the archangel agreed. "Yes, sir." He hit end and looked back at the camera. "President Metatron wants me to remind you who is in control." He looked down, hesitating before saying his last words in the video. "I am sorry, Dean. It happened to me too. I won ten years before you did, and boy, was I in "hot" demand afterwards, if you know what I mean." He winked and the video went black.

"Dean?" Sam looked up at Dean from where he had sunk on to the couch. "It doesn't feel like Christmas anymore." Dean sat down next to Sam, putting his arm around his little brother who was almost as tall as him.

"You're all legs, ya moose." He tousled Sam's long hair. "Let's decorate the tree and then eat dinner. Metatron doesn't get to ruin this Christmas for us."

"Is that why you stayed in the Capitol for those years after you won?" Sam gestured towards the blank TV screen.

"I was given an option, and that one didn't include you dying." Sam's eyes widened and he buried his face in his brother's chest. Dean returned the hug even though he had come to hate physical contact since his time in the Capitol. "Don't even worry about it, Sam. It was a long time ago. I was drugged up for most of it; I don't remember most of it." He lied. "I wasn't going to lose you too. Let's go eat. Dessert first?" He stood up, squirming out of Sam's hug. "It's pie." Dean waggled his eyebrows. Sam smiled slightly at his brother's attempts at normalizing the situation. This had been Dean's reality for all these years. Sam would just have to accept it and move on like Dean had. He knew Dean hated moments like this, so he let the moment pass. They would have a happy Christmas.

They were okay.

They were okay until the reaping in February when Sam Winchester's name was called, and Dean could do nothing. He couldn't volunteer even though he tried. And no one else would volunteer even though he glowered at all the other alternative choices. Mothers breathed sighs of relief that it was just a Winchester boy and not their own son. When Jess's cousin was called as the girl Tribute, Dean felt sick. It was his year to mentor.


	6. The Boy Who Grew Up

Dean thought Sam was handling everything as well as could be considered. Sam had been given good odds, a 9, in the Hunger Games. The only thing Dean was worried about was Jess's cousin. He was afraid that Sam wouldn't be able to kill her if she was the only Tribute left in the arena.

"Don't protect her." Dean warned Sam as they made their way from the training arena to the building where the Tributes lived. "Let one of the other Tributes kill her."

"Dean… just stop." Sam took in a deep breath. "You're her mentor too. It's your job to help both of us, so just stop worrying about me."

"Oh, I'm sorry I don't want you to die." Dean huffed, pulling his green jacket on.

"What's wrong with dying?" Sam asked rhetorically. "As far as I can tell, you simply die. You aren't fucked so your little brother stays alive. You aren't drunk after he goes to bed so you don't have to remember how much was taken from you. Have you even been with someone that you love, Dean? Or is it just one-night stands that you are paid for? I've seen you sneaking out." Sam didn't mean to sound so accusatory or judgmental, but the Capitol was getting to him. Seeing his brother about to be raped on that video was getting to him. Knowing that Dean went along with abuse for Sam's safety was getting to him.

"I've been getting you sponsors!" Dean yelled. "You don't get to talk to me like this!"

"I don't want sponsors like that!" Sam shouted back. "I want to stop costing you so much. I don't want you to be like this."

"You just motioned at me. You don't want me to be like me?" Dean lowered his voice as a Capitol official walked by. He winked and gave the blonde angel a flirtatious smile. "Good to see you, Vanessa. See you later? Tonight maybe?" She shook her head, but her smile said otherwise. Dean grinned not noticing how his brother's face had gone from angry to sad.

"They made you their whore." Sam folded his arms. "They don't have to inject you anymore to get you to do what they want. They broke you, Dean. I don't want your help anymore. I don't want to be the reason you sneak back into our apartment at 2 am with a limp and bruises." Dean looked regretful. "I don't want to end up like you." Sam walked away without another word. Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets. He didn't know what to do.

"Sam!" He called out, but his little brother was jogging back to the training area. Dean was going to go after him, but then he figured Sam just needed to calm down. He would see him back at the apartment.

"Deaaaaan." He groaned inwardly as he shifted to see Gabriel standing behind him.

"What do you want?" He growled. "You fucked up everything between my brother and I. He wasn't supposed to ever know." He stepped forward and shoved Gabriel roughly.

"Oh, Dean, foreplay so soon? I love hot, angry, hate sex."

"Can you just be serious for one minute?!"

"Can you?!" Gabriel laughed. "Face it, Dean. We are more similar than you care to admit. I got fucked to save my brother too." He gave Dean a cheesy grin. "Too bad he went off and started a rebellion and is now pretty much screwed forever, but not literally." He added when he saw the look on Dean's face. "He only being tortured a lot. Don't worry, I was relieved too. Not everyone ends up like us, Dean. Metatron is too creative to use the same punishment on everyone."

"Go away." Dean pushed Gabriel's arm, hoping the angel would get the hint and just leave. His breaths were coming in too fast and leaving even more quickly. Castiel was still alive. Castiel wasn't being pimped out. Castiel was being hurt. Oh, and Sam hated Dean. Dean wanted to regret everything he had done for Sam, but he couldn't. He would do it all again if he had to, even the nights with Lucifer. He flinched as Gabriel's hand came to rest on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm just the errand boy. Prezzie Metatron wants to see you for a 'special project.' Don't shoot the messenger!" Gabriel gave a low chuckle. "Come on." He grabbed Dean and teleported him to the President's office. Dean glanced around, barely noticing the President who sat at his desk.

"Dean Winchester." Metatron examined Dean over folded hands. "I hear you have been busy reconnecting with everyone. They most certainly missed you. You are without a doubt, one of the most loved Victors we have ever had here in the Capitol."

"Thanks." Dean answered in a small voice. Metatron's presence was so large, so powerful that Dean felt tiny. There was an evil there that Dean knew he could not kill, so his hunter instincts begged him to flee.

"He senses it." Metatron giggled. "Half of the heavenly host is oblivious to my increase in power, but a low-life, high-school drop-out with no real gifts to society can sense it."

"Weird." Gabriel commented from the corner where he was examining a Playboy magazine.

"What do you want, Metatron?" Dean sighed. He was exhausted. Sam had taken the last ounce of his ability to care in just one conversation.

"I've been informed you can draw."

"Not really. I have no real gifts, remember, bitch?" Dean squared his shoulders, gods be damned, he really hoped Metatron was in a smiting mood.

"He adapts quickly." Metatron observed to Gabriel who was only half-listening. "But yes, you can draw. I've seen it." Metatron threw a well-worn, stained folded piece of paper on his desk. He nodded at Dean to pick it up, but Dean had already recognized it. "Yes, that's blood." Metatron answered Dean's unspoken question as he gently unfolded it. "You do have a gift, Dean, and I'm in need of a good artist." Dean ran his hand over his drawing of Castiel's wings. He couldn't belive that Cas had kept the drawing. Behind him, Gabriel shifted in his seat, listening intently. Dean stiffened when he felt Metatron's steady gaze on him, waiting for a response.

"Why?"

"A political prisoner is going to meet his judgment after the Games. I need you to redraw these. Put some more detail, make them even more beautiful."

"I don't know how. I haven't exactly seen a bunch of wings."

"Oh, don't worry. " Metatron nodded at an angel who had been waiting by the door. "I've brought you a model. Don't bother trying to get him to speak; I made sure he wouldn't be able to entice any more angels with his lies as soon as he got here." Dean remembered the cruel custom of making people Avoxes. Had Metatron made Cas an Avox?

Castiel was brought in. Gabriel barely contained his own reaction as Dean looked back and forth between Metatron and Castiel. "Well, say hello." Metatron cackled. Dean finally locked eyes with Castiel; he was in a different vessel, an older vessel, but Dean would have recognized him in any vessel. "Show him your wings, Castiel." Metatron ordered with a sneer. It seemed to be painful for the weakened angel, but Castiel did what the President asked. Dean gasped. Castiel's wings were ragged and bloody. None of the feathers seemed to be going in the right direction, and one wing was definitely sprained or maybe even broken."He's low on grace." Metraton explained. "He has enough to keep him an angel, but not enough to heal himself."

Dean stepped forward, cupping his hands gently over the injured wings, tucking a few feathers back into place. Castiel shuddered in relief as Dean's small ministrations smoothed some of the uncomfortable angles back the way they should go. "Enough!" Metatron snapped, the air growing heavy and dark. "I didn't bring you here to groom him." He threw Castiel up and backwards into a wall and held him there. The black-winged angel kicked his feet, but he was high off the ground. "Draw his wings the way they are."

"But you said that you wanted them more beautiful!" Dean protested.

"These wings are more beautiful! They are the wings of a traitor getting what he deserves. And these are the wings he will carry the rest of his life after these wings are long gone!" Castiel gave a silent sob from where he was still pinned. Metatron dropped him and he crashed to the floor, a pile of injured bones and feathers. As far as Dean could tell, he was still conscious, but he trembling, too afraid to move.

"No." He made up his mind that he would not go along with this. He would not have anything to do with Castiel losing his wings.

"No?" Metatron turned.

"No, I won't do it. I won't draw them. When the Games are over, I am returning to District 10. I won't help you torment Cas."

"Fine." Metatron smiled a smile full of sickly-sweet poison. "There will be consequences to Samuel for your misplaced loyalty."

"Sam doesn't give a shit." Dean shrugged as he pulled the door open and left the office. Gabriel saw the smile on Metatron's face grow even larger. The sight caused a shiver to make its way down the Trickster's spine.

"Perfect." The president whispered to himself, pulling out his typewriter. "Return Dean to his complex, Gabriel." His grin unnerved Gabriel who practically bolted from the room to find Dean. "You can take Castiel back to Alistair now, Gadreel." He addressed the angel who had brought Castiel in. "Make sure to keep him alive. We wouldn't want him to miss the grand finale."


	7. The Boy Who Was Broken

The Games started with a bang, literally. Sam Winchester turned out to be a force to be reckoned with. Many people speculated if the Winchester brothers could both pull off winning the Games, but Sam quickly showed that it was possible that they could. Sam was cunning where Dean had been brutal. He was deceivingly innocent looking as he knocked out Jess's cousin and flung her unconscious body onto the land mines he had piled. He looked so young when he strangled a boy from District 7. He looked like the underdog when he took on a demon from District 3. The first cannon sounded, and then the second, the third, the fifth, the eight, the sixteenth, the nineteenth, the twenty-third—Sam Winchester was the unmistakable victor with a record breaking twenty-three kills in twenty-three hours.

At first, Dean had been proud, but as the Games had flown by, he got more and more disturbed. Sam didn't seem bothered by the Games; Sam seemed to excel on the Games. With every murder, Sam seemed to get less bothered by the fact that he was killing with grace and ease that escaped almost all previous victors with the exception of Lucifer.

When Sam came out of the arena, he was guarded by angels. Dean wasn't allowed near him. Vaguely, he remembered President Metatron saying that his disobedience would cost him Sam, but he didn't think that the President could completely alter someone. He hoped to talk to Sam for a moment, but Sam was too busy being congratulated by his adoring fans.

"A moment, Sam!" President Metatron called out, making his way to the new victor still covered in the blood and grime of the arena. He threw his arm around Sam, too short to wrap his arm over Sam's shoulders. Cameras flashed, reporters asked questions frantically, jostling, trying to be heard over each other. "Ladies and gentlemen, quiet down." The president laughed. "Let the boy catch his breath!" There was slight titter that ran throughout the crowd thronging around the president and the victor. Sam's chest was still heaving from the exertion of his last kill. His long hair hung over his face until he tucked it behind his ears. His eyes were wide and innocent as he grinned and nodded at those who congratulated him on his victory in this year's Games. "I've got a preposition for you, Sam." Metatron began, the crowd silently holding on to every last word that left the president's lips.

"I'm listening." It made Dean sick the way that Sam smiled at the president. He looked like all the rest of the Capitol, hanging on to every word Metatron said. He looked hopeful. He looked joyful. He looked more at peace than Dean had ever seen him be. And he looked at Metatron like he was freaking God.

"I'm thinking that we here at the Capitol could benefit from you joining us. Have you ever heard of Stanford?"

"Yes." Sam breathed quietly, his chest constricting. All he had ever wanted was to go to college.

"Well, on behalf of the Capitol and Stanford University, I'd like to offer you a full-ride as a reward for your excellence performance in these Games."

"Really?" Sam lit up, "You guys would take in a kid from District 10?"

"On one condition…" Metatron gave Sam a shifting look. "Ever since we moved Stanford to the Capitol to keep our highly intelligent students safe, we have had to become extremely selective, and we only want the best and the most committed at our school."

"I'd do anything." Sam gushed. "I've dreamed out college for so long! And Stanford is the best college left…" He trailed off as he remembered he was on national television. President Metatron just laughed and clapped Sam on the back.

"That's our eager victor. There's just one condition, Sam, and this full-ride is all yours, no strings attached. You'll need to come live here for the whole time you attend Stanford without any contact from anyone back home."

"What about Dean?" Sam's eyebrows furrowed at the thought of not being able to talk to Dean. They were all they had left in the world.

"Especially Dean," Metatron gave Sam a stern look, "he is a negative influence on your life and a useless distraction from your hopes and dreams." Dean's hands formed into fists. "He's angry and worthless, Sam. But you, you are bright and full of so much potential. What do you say? Can you give it all up?"

"Dean won't mind." Sam shrugged, a calculating look forming in his eyes. "Hell, he probably doesn't even know what a university is; let alone how to spell the word. Doesn't take much to distract a high-school dropout, he'll be fine. When do I start?"  
Dean felt like he had been kicked in the stomach as Sam's words reverberated through the speakers.

"As soon as you graduate from St. Balthazar's here in the capitol! We will pay for your high school fees, of course."

"St. Balthazar's?" Sam's voice cracked, a painful reminder that he was still just a kid growing up. "I thought they didn't take transfers."

"They will for you, my protégé." Metatron smiled. Dean was going to throw up. Sam was beaming up there next to the President, every dream coming true in one day. Dean leaned backwards against the wall of the nearest building as the cameras zoomed in on his face. He looked up to see his own face plastered on the big screen. He could admit he looked horrible as he sucked in a breath and tried to control the warring emotions that were so plainly displayed on his features.

He saw Metatron's smug smile. He saw Gabriel shake his head ever so slightly. And he saw Sam, Sam with his big eyes and guilty expression, Sam shot Dean a quick, apologetic glance before leaving with his team. It was done. He had lost Sam and for what? Castiel was going to suffer regardless of what he did. He couldn't lose Sam. Dean elbowed through the crowd trying to reach Metatron.

"Metatron!" He shouted, hoping the curly-haired angel would hear him over the excited Capitol rabble. The President did, turning with a knowing smile.

"Dean! Congratulations on having such a well-trained brother! I suppose we have you to thank for teaching him how to hunt so well. How could he fail with a brother as a mentor and previous victor?"

"Save your flattery." Dean spat. "Give my brother back, you ass. I'll do whatever you want. I'll do the wings; just let me talk to Sammy still." Dean shoved the camera that had gotten too close to his face. "Please."

"Exciting news, everyone." Metatron motioned for the cameras to all focus on him again. "Meet the artist behind Castiel's tattoos. These Winchester boys are very talented." Dean gaped at the screen when a picture of Castiel kneeling on the ground flashed up there. Reporters started asking him questions rapidly about his inspiration and how long it had taken him. Angel wings were a hot topic for the humans, most having never seen a pair in real life. Dean ignored them as the gravity of what had befallen Cas fully hit him.

"You sick bastard." Gadreel stationed himself between Dean and the President as a precaution as Dean struggled with his temper. Dean saw Cas' wounds that everyone ignored; he saw the scars torn into Castiel's body. Yes, the focus was on the beautiful wings now permanently etched into Castiel's back, but Dean realized that they were now just a mockery. The gaping wounds where his wings had been torn from his body combined with an excellent copying of his drawing to Castiel's skin were a bloody reminder of the creativity cruelty of the Capitol. How could angels treat another angel so? How could anyone treat Castiel so? He was the last bit of good left in the world of angels and they had crushed him.

"You will be paid for your work, but you won't ever see or talk to Sam again until he graduates from Stanford. I am a gracious President, Dean." Metatron dropped his voice low so only Dean could hear him; he waved away the cameras carelessly. "The last person who treated me like that, well, I'll pass your greetings to Castiel." The look in Metatron's eyes promised that it would be an unpleasant meeting for Dean's friend. "Have you heard about how we ripped his grace out? He's human like you now, Dean. He's helpless just like you. You should hear him scream."

Dean had nothing to say. His art had been used to hurt Cas. He had lost Sam. He hung his head and stared at the cracks of the sidewalk underneath his booted feet. Metatron giggled slightly behind a gloved hand at the sight of the broken man in front of him. "See you around, Dean."


	8. The Boy With an Interrupted Life

Dean returned to his district, an outcast. He lived by himself in the empty Victor's Village. Evenings would find him drinking, often slumped over in the upstairs hallway, staring into Sam's empty room. The only proof that he had ever had a younger brother was the pain in his heart that he tried to drink away every day.

By the time he turned twenty-one, Dean was driven from the town he had grown up in by what remained of Jess's extended family. Her cousin's family turned the town against him, accusing him of blatantly helping Sam to the point of sacrificing their daughter to try to ensure Sam's victory. They blamed him for their daughter's death, claiming he hadn't even tried to help her. They never could really prove it, but everyone knew that it had to true to some extent. Everyone in their town knew how close the Winchester boys were. Honestly, they didn't even need to incite the townsfolk at all. The town had come to hate the Winchesters for so many things already, what was one more reason? So instead of a cake with burning candles, Dean was given a mob with burning torches. They set fire to his house with him inside. He barely escaped, a singed, drunken wreck, into the grassy plains.

He came to another small town a couple days later, one with an ex-Hunter family like his own. He wasn't friends with them, nor did he know who they were. He just knew they were there, so he kept his angel blade close. He still had Castiel's angel blade. And a black, iridescent feather that he had found from the day Cas had turned himself in so Dean could save Sam. _Sam._ Dean choked back his emotions, wiping his face clean. Being abandoned by his brother hurt like hell, it was the weight on his chest when he woke up and the burden on his back when he walked around town. The people weren't much kinder in this place, but they feared him. They only knew him from the Capitol's telecasts, so most of them gave him respect. They knew he had been a hunter.

He bought a couple acres a mile or so from town where an old mobile home sat haphazardly, desperately in need of repair. President Metatron did compensate him for his drawing; he was one of the wealthiest men in all of District 10, but he didn't use the money for much other than his needs. He used some of his savings to patch up his new place. He bought himself an air conditioner and a bottle of whiskey, singing "Happy birthday to me" as he sank into the dirty, old couch. He missed his baby. He had to leave her behind when the mob attacked. He had paid a tow truck to go get her for him. She was supposed to arrive within a few weeks. She had been hurt in the fire, so he spent more of Metatron's money to ship her to a brilliant mechanic. He would have liked to tend to her himself, but he didn't have his garage anymore. He slowly built up having his tools, and bought a foreclosed garage in town. "Baby's Auto," it was dubbed once he rumbled into the parking lot with his Impala. He was a good mechanic and soon had connections in the town that he never thought possible, but still, he had no friends.

This was how Dean Winchester lived for the year of his life, only leaving town once, so he could attend Sam's high school graduation. Sam had been valedictorian. Sam hadn't even looked at him. Dean didn't think the trip had been a waste. He would have never forgiven himself for missing his baby brother's high school graduation. He had eight more years before he could talk to Sam again. His brother's graduation night, he nearly drank himself to death in his hotel room. Everything was too damn fancy! So he drank it, all the fancy wine, the fancy liquor, everything. He was found by an angel the next day when he didn't show up for his train. The lowly angel called his boss who called Gabriel who winged by and healed him. Dean vacillated between feeling grateful and hateful towards Cas's older brother. But he got on a train and went back to his shop, throwing himself back into his work.

It took him the next three years after that to get sober. He was now twenty-five with a successful business, an impressive bank account that he never touched, and a loneliness that haunted him like a vengeful ghost. He had business associates, customers, people to drink with when he let himself have **one** (just one) beer—but he was still all alone.

* * *

Now whether it was God's sense of humor or Metatron's, he didn't know, but his life suddenly became less empty. Gabriel and Gadreel showed up with a "package" for Dean one day at the shop the summer before Sammy's fourth year at Stanford. Five more years to go and he could see Sam again. He wanted to see Sam again, unlike the two angels that appeared out of nowhere.

"You have to sign for it." Gadreel was all formality while Gabriel poked around the shop, indulging his curiosity, just within earshot of Gadreel and Dean.

"Pretty sure I didn't order anything from the Capitol." Dean protested, wearily signing the piece of paper Gadreel slid on to his metal desk. It had been a long day at work. Three cars had stopped working for no reason, all needing new engines that he did not have. His customers did not seem to understand that it would take a few days for him to get the parts they needed for their cars to work again. The work itself was not tiring, but the extra, unnecessary dealing with people had been. Once he had the parts, those cars would be just like new.

"You take this, and we'll have these engines in tomorrow." Gabe winked from where he was leafing through Dean's diagnostics on the three cars. "Plus I'll personally remove the source of your car troubles since you can't hunt anymore."

"I signed it, didn't I?" Dean sighed, running his hand through his hair. "What's the package?" Gadreel flipped open a phone and gave a curt order in Enochian. Two more angels entered the shop dragging a pale, weak form between the two of them.

"Cas?" Dean stood up in a flash, his chair teetering precariously before crashing to the ground. The person who couldn't be his old friend shied away from the noise, shaking and quivering uncontrollably. The two angels unceremoniously threw him to the ground where he huddled into a ball on the concrete floor. "What the hell?" Dean growled, turning to Gabriel. The two angels that had brought Castiel in vanished.

"I would watch your tone around Cassie; he gets anxious easily." Gabriel rubbed his neck nervously. "Metatron is bored with him. He thinks death would be too kind for Castiel. He wants him to live and die as the human he is now." Gabriel recited the words Metatron had said to him far too often in the Capitol. "You seemed like the best place to bring him." Gabriel hesitantly met Dean's eyes as if he expected Dean to refuse. A big part of Dean wanted to refuse, how was he to take care of another human being? He had done so well with Sammy. "Oh, and he can't walk, plus a few other things." The angel trailed off as Dean glared at him.

"Heal him." There was no way Dean could nurse Cas back to health in his current condition. He studied his old friend for a moment. He was pale, too pale, his bones jutting out under gaunt skin. His eyes were hidden by black sunglasses; his lips were trembling. Gabriel followed Dean's gaze and stepped forward to comply. Gabe wanted to heal his brother with every particle of his being.

"You can't." Gadreel gave Gabriel a stern look.

"Who's the archangel here?" Dean folded his arms across his chest.

"He's just trying to goad you, Gabriel." Gadreel had this way of speaking that made him seem so passionate yet apathetic at once.

"I won't tell, if Gad here won't." Dean flashed a winning smile at the shorter angel.

"I can't." Gabriel whispered, vulnerable for a brief moment that showed the desperation and guilt warring inside.

"I can't take care of him in this condition. He needs a doctor. He needs medicine. You don't have to heal him entirely, just his legs. I can't have him dying on me." Dean hasn't spoken or seen Castiel in years, but their friendship had been important to Dean. Despite everything with Sam, despite promising himself he wouldn't get close to anyone again, despite no one wanting to be close to him—Dean was happy to see Castiel. He wanted Castiel to live. He wanted his friend back. To lose Castiel too, well, Dean didn't think his sobriety could survive that as well. He would barter for his old friend to have a better shot at life, and at the same time, barter to have a friend again.

"I will heal him enough so he has a chance at a normal human life." Gabriel conceded, but Gadreel quickly voiced his disagreement, drawing his blade. Gabriel backed away from Gadreel, hands up in surrender, but Dean had had enough. He crept up behind Gadreel and placed Castiel's blade, the blade he never left home without, to Gadreel's throat.

"I want you to heal him." Dean snarled. "I want the good little doggie to know what it's like to bite the hand that feeds him. You're so obnoxiously loyal to Metatron, I just can't understand it. Gabe, I can understand. He looks out for number one, but you, Gadreel, are something else entirely, faithful without any good cause."

"Metatron has allowed me to redeem myself." The angel's face was red as he struggled to free himself without murdering himself. "No one has ever helped me before."

"Well then I guess you were blessed to be a blessing." Dean jerked Gadreel towards Castiel. Gadreel was giving in; Dean could sense that as the angel fought him less and less. Gadreel's shoulders sagged suddenly. The angel would rather die by Metatron's hand then by Dean's wrath. "Heal him and get out." Dean whispered in his ear, releasing Gadreel. The angel quickly obeyed, pressing two fingers to Castiel's forehead. Castiel shuddered before passing out, limp on the ground, his sunglasses clattering to the floor. Both Gadreel and Gabriel vanished before Dean could find his voice; Metatron had taken Castiel's blue eyes. Castiel was blind. Dean dropped to his knees next to his friend, hesitantly reaching his hand towards him before changing his mind. He gently replaced Castiel's sunglasses, covering the gruesome scars where Castiel's eyes had been.

He needed to get Castiel home before he woke up.


	9. The Boys Who Weren't Lonely

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has followed or favorited this story! I'm really glad to have some response because this is a story that I've really become quite fond of. I can't believe this is chapter 9 already! In this chapter, the line breaks signify a switch in which character the POV is being written. All right, I hope you guys like it. Enjoy!**

* * *

Castiel woke up violently. He thrashed around in Dean's bed as he tried to free himself from the blankets holding him captive. How was Metatron going to torture him this time? What new pain lay in wait for him now that consciousness had him in its clutches?

* * *

"Cas!" Dean shouted, running in from the living room. He had decided to camp out on the couch for the time being until they got situated in this new living arrangement. "Dammit, Cas!" He gripped Castiel by the arms as Castiel tried to fend him off. "It's just me!" Castiel flinched as Dean shouted in his face. He tried to pull himself free from Dean's grasp. He started to shake like he had done in the garage. "Fuck." Dean swore. This was not starting well. Castiel was still trying to pull away from him, so Dean just let him go. Yelling had definitely been a mistake on his part. "Cas." He said softly, almost a whisper. "You're safe, Cas."

Realizing he was free, Castiel bolted from the bed and fell to the floor. Dean watched in stunned silence as Castiel crawled to the corner and curled up into the wall. He was listening intently, Dean noticed, using his ears to compensate for what he couldn't see. Slowly, Dean made his way closer. Tension visibly tightened Castiel's shoulders with every footstep Dean made. "It's just me." Dean said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He wasn't any good at this. Sam had always been the one with the gentle voice and soothing touch. Dean was better at slamming a bowl of chicken noodle soup down and hoping that it fixed every problem. "It's Dean." He clarified, thinking that Cas might not recognize his voice. "I'm gonna take your wrist." He warned Castiel as an idea popped into his head. "I'm gonna let you see that it's me." He carefully took Castiel's wrist in his hand and placed the ex-angel's fingers on his own cheek. Dean tried to hide his own flinch as Castiel's hand made contact with his skin. He could handle touch just this once, just for Cas's sake. Castiel was still breathing fast, trying to catch his breath, but he leaned forward and carefully brought his other hand to Dean's face. After a moment of confirming to himself that this was indeed Dean, he gave a short, funny little sigh and sagged back against the wall. Dean saw a glimmer of hope as Castiel's trembling slowly came to a stop. This was a much better start.

Living with Castiel was an adjustment for Dean. It took a few days for Dean to figure out that Cas had some serious nightmares. Dean understood though. Cas had only known pain and torture and cruelty for his whole human existence. He would check on Cas at night to make sure his breathing was steady. He had learned to be proactive in stopping Cas's nightmares because once the nightmares took hold, it was hard to bring Cas back to reality.

Being human was a hard concept for Castiel, especially when he had spent the first five years living in dungeons, far from a normal life. Dean had to teach him how to do everything from getting dressed to making breakfast for himself in case Dean wasn't around when he woke up. One thing Dean was grateful for was that Cas was a quick learner when it came to using the toilet. Dean still had to help him in and out of the bathtub, but that was because the bathtub was a deathtrap waiting to happen. Cas's moving in helped Dean come to the conclusion that they needed a better house, one he could "Cas-proof."

The trailer had been good to Dean, but the floors were crooked, some planks were rotting. He needed a place that would be less dangerous for a blind, wingless, voiceless, former angel to live without worrying nonstop every time he left Cas alone at the trailer. He had found him unconscious once from tripping over a floorboard that jutted out of the floor. The trailer needed to be condemned, so Dean had it taken away. He contacted a contractor who began building him a new house. Cas and Dean stayed at the garage while the construction began.

* * *

The garage was cozy; it smelled like oil and Dean, or at least it did to Castiel. He still had Dean's bed from the house. Dean curled up in Baby's backseat most nights unless he fell asleep at his desk. Castiel always tried to make a note of where Dean slept. Knowing where his friend was made his panic attacks less frequent. Castiel hated needing sleep. Sleep was when his mind betrayed him to the darkness beaten into his brain. He woke up most nights covered in sweat, silently screaming in a way that made his throat ache. Most of those nights he woke up to Dean's hands on his wrists drawing his hands to his face, the only thing Dean knew to do that would break the mental bonds of this prison of fright that imprisoned Castiel's mind. Dean would then get up and bring Cas a glass of water as if he somehow knew about the scratchy soreness in Castiel's throat.

Dean cared. Castiel wished he could see Dean's expressions though he heard them well enough in his voice. Dean was an open book to anyone who took the time to pay any attention to him. He remembered how Dean used to be all those years ago, but Dean had changed, he had grown. He was gentle where he used to be gruff. Instead of awkward silence, Dean told Castiel the stories of the day or he vented about some part of a car that Castiel didn't understand. Castiel loved listening to Dean, but some days, Castiel missed Sam. Sam had been his best friend for all those years. Dean never mentioned Sam which made Castiel wonder what had happened to the younger Winchester. They had always been so inseparable all those years ago.

It was a normal night in the garage. Dean had been on his laptop, watching the news like he always did after supper. Castiel had retired to his bed in the corner, curled up, looking like a little angel. Dean mentally laughed at his own description. Cas would always been an angel to him, a good angel, the angel that angels were supposed to be. "Rest well." He whispered, laying his hand on his friend's forehead. Castiel leaned into Dean's touch, rolling over to get closer to the warmth. "I gotta run out, the contractor has some questions about the second level." Castiel nodded sleepily. "If anything happens, call me." Dean sounded stern, so Castiel nodded again. He really just wanted to sleep. Dean had figured out a while back to teach Cas to use his cell phone to call Dean's in case he needed anything. He knew Cas couldn't talk into the phone, but the call was a signal for Dean to come home. Dean didn't seem to mind that it took forever for Castiel to make himself understood. In fact, he seemed to try to find ways so Cas could express himself; he acted like he wanted to make life easier for the ex-angel in any way that he could. Dean pressed the cell phone into Castiel's hand, and squeezed Castiel's hand shut. "Night, Cas." And Dean was gone into the evening while Castiel fell into a peaceful slumber.

Castiel loved nights like these, nights without nightmares, nights that give way to peaceful mornings. He lay in the soft bed, draped in warm blankets. He could smell Dean's morning coffee being brewed by the coffee maker in the garage's small kitchen. Some days Castiel hated mornings even more than he hated nights. He ccouldn't get used to the eternal darkness, and the mornings always reminded him that he should be seeing light. He trailed his fingers over what feels like ugly scars on his face. He remembered the pain; he remembered the awful, searing, burning, white-hot pain when his eyes were taken. He didn't want to remember any more, he didn't want nightmares tonight. He wanted to listen to Dean fill this deafening silence with his silly stories.

He shuffled over to the Impala, using the 'fancy cane' as Dean called it when he had ordered it for Castiel. He knocked loudly on the car door, his silent way of calling out for Dean, but Dean didn't answer.

Dean still didn't answer when he knocks over the toolbox; usually the loud clattering sent the older Winchester running.

Dean didn't answer his phone, even though Castiel tried to call him again and again.

Dean didn't answer his silent cries even though Castiel has sunk to the ground, mouthing Dean's name over and over again.

The silence crushed Castiel more than the darkness does. He could taste the wild panic setting in, shaking his bones. He was curled up in a ball on the ground, screaming until he blacked out.

By the time he came to, Dean was there. Dean was there with strong arms and gentle hands helping him up. Dean was there with a low, rumbling voice asking him if he was all right. Dean was there, gently washing his bruised and dirty face with a warm wash cloth. Castiel clung to Dean trying to ask where the fuck he had been, but as usual, nothing comes out. Metatron had effectively silenced him when he sliced his vocal chords.

But despite his own panic, or maybe it was his heightened awareness of the man next to him, but Cas knew that something was wrong with Dean. Castiel could feel it pouring off of the man who was almost clinging to him in turn. He could sense the wild desperation that was pounding within the taller man, the desperation and fear that he could feel Dean trying to hold back. Dean had never acted like this before. Castiel couldn't figure out what is wrong. All he could do was make a soothing 'shushing' sound as he rubbed Dean's back. Dean leaned into his embrace before taking a deep breath. "I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you." Dean gave a breathy laugh as if he was trying to compose himself, but Castiel felt the tears on Dean's rough cheek against his own face as Dean pulled away. He couldn't bring himself to release Dean's arm, but Dean didn't try to pull his arm from his grasp. Whatever happened, they still needed each other to get through this. But they both could sense that something had shifted because now, now Castiel knew that Dean needed him too.


	10. The Boy Who Sacrificed For Love

Castiel had broken Dean's aversion to touch and had seemingly reversed it. The two were even more inseparable throughout the following weeks, sharing the bed, staying close throughout day. Dean was happy, pulling Cas in for a quick hug. Castiel was happy, nodding vigorously every time Dean asked if he could share, just share, the bed that night. The casual touching wasn't romantic or sexual, but it was desperate in its own right: two men clinging to each other to keep from drowning in their own loneliness. It was more than using each other for comfort. There was a silent adoration between the two, knitting their souls together in ways they had not yet discovered.

They were sitting in bed, watching a movie on Sam's old laptop that somehow still worked. Castiel was curled up into Dean's shoulder, enjoying the movie in his own way when Dean's cell phone went off. Castiel could tell by the way tension knotted its way up Dean's back and into his shoulders, it was not a call he wanted to receive. He didn't recognize the voice on the other end, but he heard enough of the conversation to wrap his hands into Dean's shirt, imploring in his own unspoken way for Dean not to go. Dean clicked the phone shut and roughly pulled Castiel on top of him. There was no more room for them to hide; the space between them was no longer existent. Castiel's legs were on either side of Dean who leaned in closer to whisper in Castiel's ear.

"You must know I like you, Cas. I've never liked someone like this before; no one ever gave me the time of day. You had to know I liked you ever since that night you saved Sam from the fire. I didn't even know it then, but I know now. I like you, Cas." He said with such wonderment that Castiel could feel the adoration in those green eyes that he prayed to God every night to let him see again. "I never knew what it was like to have someone turn your whole world upside down until I met you. You must have known, of course, you knew. You've always been smarter than me, angel." It was the tenderest of rough kisses as Dean kissed Castiel with more desperation and affection than the former angel had believed to be possible.

Castiel sighed into the kiss, returning it with as much fervor he could muster in his shocked but deliriously happy state. "I wanted you to know," Dean pulled back from their kiss, "in case something bad happens. Here." Dean removed one of Castiel's hands from their hold on Dean's neck. "Take my phone. Call 9-1-1 if I'm not back by morning. Give them this letter when they show up." He pressed a letter into Castiel's other hand. "I like you, Cas." A gentle kiss, a soft kiss was pressed against Castiel's pliant lips. "You're my world now. And I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. That's why I have to go. I have to keep you safe." This time, it was Castiel's fingers running through Dean's hair, the phone and the letter discarded on the bed nect to them. Castiel pushed himself up to bring their mouths together. And well, Dean was kind and more than willing enough to have his lips waiting where Castiel was aiming to kiss empty air. "I don't want to go." He whispered after, planting kisses along Castiel's temple. "But I must." He left Castiel curled up on the bed with a warning not to lose the phone and the letter. Dean had to go take care of the 'bad guys.'

Castiel stayed awake as long as he could, long after the movie stopped playing on the laptop. He had stopped listening to the movie as soon as Dean had pulled their bodies together. He trembled at the thought of it. So that had been what being human was being all about, feeling that connection, that love, with another person. He adored Dean with all his being. He always had. His affection for Dean was one of the bigger reasons he had sparked the rebellion against Metatron. He had always wanted to see Dean happy, but instead, he had gotten to feel Dean's happiness whenever they interacted after he had been dropped into Dean's life. He felt safe with Dean. Dean smoothed his nightmares away. Dean was building a new house so he wouldn't get hurt. Dean bought him the cane and was trying to teach him braille. Dean, Dean, Dean—Dean had become his whole world. Part of him mourned the apathy he felt for the rest of the country now that he had Dean. He had felt too much pain to want to subject himself or Dean to more sacrifice on behalf of their country. When he fell asleep, he wasn't sure. But once again, he could smell coffee brewing with Dean's presence nowhere near. With trembling fingers, he dialed 9-1-1 like Dean had taught him. Even though he knew nothing would come out, he still tried to tell the kind lady on the other end what was wrong. He sniffled, feeling overwhelmed. He needed Dean to be okay. The dispatcher promised to stay with him on the phone and tried to console him with the knowledge that help was on the way.

When the sheriff and a team of paramedics broke their way into Dean's auto shop, Castiel shoved the letter into the nearest person's hands. He didn't understand all of what they said, but they left him alone in a hurry. Dean was in trouble. He sighed his thanks into the phone and shut it.

"Dean Winchester?" A woman's stern voice echoed through the shop. Castiel cowered behind the bed, hoping she wouldn't come in. "My name is Ellen Harvelle. I own the General Store over on Main. I'm sure you know why I'm here. I do have security cameras in my store. I had to clean up quite the mess this morning on my front register."

"Mom, he's not here." A younger woman's voice cut the other woman off.

"What are you doing here, Ellen? Jo?" Castiel recognized the voice of the sheriff who had just been inside.

"Trying to find Dean Winchester."

"And why is that?"

"You can take your hand of your gun, Benny. I wanted to see if he was okay. You've seen the tapes from last night."

"Did you recognize the man that was with him?"

"Calm your tits, Benny. It was Gordon." The younger woman spoke up again.

"Dean mentioned him in a letter. We have a county-wide alert for both of them." The sheriff, Benny, retorted.

"When did you talk to Dean?"

"I don't think I ever have outside of the shop, but the former leader of the rebellion who was living with him gave me a letter that had some disturbing information. I've been stationed here to make sure Gordon doesn't try to get Castiel."

"Castiel, huh?" The odler woman sounded like she was deep in thought. "Where is he now? The place is empty."

"He's blind and mute, Ellen. From what I gathered, hasn't seen much kindness outside of Dean."

"Well, we should change that." Castiel pushed his face into the side of the mattress as footsteps came closer.

"Castiel? My name is Ellen Harvelle. I know I sound angry, but I'm really not. That's just my voice. We want to help, Castiel. We want to help you and Dean. You're safe with us. We're not angels."

"Uh, he used to be an angel." Benny provided helpfully in his soothing Southern twang.

"Angels probably turned him human, you lunkhead." Ellen had found the shaking human. "It's okay, Castiel." She touched his wrist, so reminiscent of Dean all those nights ago. "Do you want to see me?" Hesitantly, Castiel touched her face.

She seemed trust-worthy. So he went with her to her house. "Dean will be okay." She rubbed his back soothingly. "Want a drink?"


End file.
